


when moments are no excuse

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Series: remember the secrets we've told [5]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Episode Related, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Set During 1.08 - Flash vs. Arrow, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie could take him out with a single punch, if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. His eyes flick to Barry’s hand on him and back up to Barry’s face, meet Barry’s gaze for what seems like forever, and a shaky breath passes between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when moments are no excuse

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I've ever been so in love with a ship before. (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> I want to thank you all for the love so far. I really appreciate it. This series will stop following canon from here, given the circumstances with Eddie and the Flash. I just thought this episode fit in really well with everything that's going on in the series, save for a few things, so I've tweaked it a little bit.
> 
> This is basically episode 8 with missing scenes and some much needed closure at the end.
> 
> Unbeta'd all around, apologies for that. Feedback is awesome as always. 
> 
> Buckle up and enjoy the ride!

Eddie passes by him at the bank without acknowledging his existence, a witness walking alongside him as they head outside.

Barry’s hand tightens around the strap on his shoulder as he watches them go, a lump stuck in his throat, and he knows he lingers for longer than he should, knows Joe might—and probably will—notice, but he can’t help it. 

Joe simply raises his eyebrows at him, without a word, and Barry glances between him and Eddie, ignores the pang of jealousy when Eddie’s hand finds the witness’s shoulder.

***

Eddie’s voice can be heard all the way in the hallway.

Barry stands at Joe’s desk and watches as Eddie paces from one side to the other inside Singh’s office. Anger’s etched in every word, every breath Eddie takes before he mentions the Flash, but this isn’t about it. This isn’t about a vigilante, this isn’t about public safety, this is about Barry, about what they did.

“I can’t explain how he gets to and from crime scenes so fast,” Eddie tells Singh. It’s not a lie, not in its entirety, because Eddie _doesn’t_ know how, just knows that he does. He and Barry haven’t talked about it, haven’t talked about much at all. “We need to figure out who this guy is,” lies, lies, lies, “and what he wants.”

That, not so much. Barry fidgets, arms crossing above his chest. That sounds like it’s directed at him, not Singh, and he would give Eddie the answer he wants if he knew it, but he can’t. He can’t choose between losing Iris and having Eddie, and he, as well as Eddie, knows that he can’t have them both at the same time, not if he wants to be able to look at himself in the mirror.

Iris shows up after a moment, stops by Barry’s side and asks, “Hey, what’s going on in there?”

Barry can’t look at her, not really. “I think Eddie’s trying to convince the Captain that the Flash is a public menace,” he says, and can’t hide the annoyance in his voice.

Iris turns to him, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t know the implications of it all, doesn’t know the _reason_ behind it all, and Barry wants to tell her. God, he really wants to tell her, but he’s made her father a promise that he intends to keep. Knowing about the Flash’s true identity, about what he and Eddie did, are doing—it’ll do more harm than good.

He shrugs, shakes his head, doesn’t offer an explanation even though her eyes are pleading for one.

Eddie comes out of Singh’s office with his gaze fixed on anything that isn’t Barry. Iris confronts him, her voice firm even though Barry can hear the fear and anger behind it, and Eddie stops, looks at her with something Barry can’t pinpoint. 

Barry takes a seat, tries not to look at them because he knows that, if he does, the hole in his gut will just duplicate in size until it consumes him completely. He isn’t expecting Eddie to direct his word at him, Eddie hasn’t done that in a long while now.

“Thanks, Barry,” Eddie declares, his eyes meeting Barry’s. Sarcasm drips off Eddie’s voice and Barry swallows his anger, offers him an equally as meaningless and belligerent apology. 

Eddie doesn’t look at him when he says, “No worries, the Captain shot me down.” He’s looking for something to do with his hands when he tugs at his belt; Barry’s done that enough times that he can tell. Eddie’s eyes roam over Iris’s face, can’t seem to stay in one place. “Look, I’m not feeling like lunch,” he says. He glances at Barry before leaving and Barry almost misses it, watches as he goes. “See you later.”

Iris sounds apologetic when she turns to face Barry, giving out a sigh, and says, “He’s just jealous.”

“Uh, of the Flash?” Barry asks, rubbing at a spot behind his ear. “Should he be?”

Iris frowns, shakes her head. “No.”

***

At S.T.A.R. Labs, he receives a message from Iris to the Flash. Caitlin advises him, unwarrantedly, not get involved with Iris, as the Flash or himself.

“You don’t wanna be the one to blame for their breakup,” she says, with a small shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” Barry nods. “I hear you.”

Barry turns, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he grabs his suit and leaves with a whistle behind him. He doesn’t tell her that he’s already the one to blame, for reasons she can’t even fathom.

***

The Flash meets Iris at Jitters.

He calculates his every movement, keeps his distance, stands in front of strategically positioned lights so she can’t see his face. She tells him about Eddie, oblivious to the fact the she’s the one in the dark about all of this, not him, and he nods, can’t bring himself to speak without blurting out something he’ll regret.

He understands now, why Eddie told him to reveal his identity to her. There’s a glimmer in her eyes, something that goes beyond admiration and borders on lust, something that she sometimes looks at Eddie with, but never Barry, and always the Flash.

***

Barry’s glad to see Felicity again.

She offers him some much-needed release from tense smiles and measured steps. 

Felicity makes him laugh. Oliver, not so much.

***

Barry can talk from experience when he admits to himself that he gets the effect men like Oliver and Eddie have on women.

They have everything most people are attracted to: the nice smile, the broad shoulders, the sultry voice, the stubble, the intelligence, and the confidence. Oliver, even more so than Eddie, has the money, the stature, and the name Queen going for him; Barry isn’t surprised that Iris has him on a list of men she would cheat on Eddie with.

He is surprised, however, that such a list exists at all. He knows it shouldn’t, but it makes him feel better, somehow, less guilty, less dirty, except it also doesn’t, because having a made-up list doesn’t compare to what he and Eddie have done to her.

“You usually don’t meet people on your list, but now here he is and I just _cannot_ stop staring at him,” Iris says, or more like purrs, really.

Barry raises his eyebrows, opens his mouth even though he’s got nothing to say. 

He has a feeling that Eddie’s list is a lot different than what she might think, although it probably has Oliver in it too.

***

Between Iris drooling over the size of Oliver’s arms and Oliver literally shooting two arrows in his back, Barry finds that he can really, really hate Oliver freaking Queen sometimes.

(Not to mention the fact that, yeah, he sees no reason why Oliver _wouldn’t_ be on Eddie’s list.

Hell, he’s in probably half the people in Central City’s list.

Screw this guy.)

***

Barry hadn’t stopped to think about how much Eddie despises him after what happened. If how adamant Eddie seems to be about putting the Flash behind bars is anything to go by, the situation is worse than he’d thought; especially given the fact that Eddie _knows_ who he is, and he could arrest him at any given moment, provided he had proof.

Barry isn’t so sure that he wouldn’t.

“Eddie’s making his case for the task force again,” Joe tells him when he gets back at the station after his encounter with Oliver.

“I thought the Captain shot him down earlier.”

Joe sighs. “Apparently he’s got a new argument. The Arrow made an appearance last night,” a pause, a glance at Singh’s office, “and you forgot to tell me that you got Bivolo’s name after shooting that storage guy in the leg.”

“Technically, I didn’t shoot him.”

Joe’s made it more than clear that he doesn’t trust The Arrow, but Barry, despite everything, does. How can he not?

“I don’t—” Barry cuts himself off. “The Arrow gets results.”

“He’s a crazy man.”

“Look, I don’t actually disagree with you at the moment, but we wouldn’t even have Bivolo’s name if it weren’t for The Arrow,” Barry reasons, raises his eyebrows. “So, maybe instead of judging him, you should be thanking him.”

Joe doesn’t seem appeased by the situation, but then again, neither is Barry.

***

Barry catches Eddie at the elevator following another heated argument in Singh’s office.

Eddie has his hands on both sides of his waist when Barry approaches, his back to Barry, and Barry’s noticed that there are only two occasions in which Eddie does that: when he’s either a) nervous or b) needing to punch someone in the face, and more often than not, those situations overlap.

It’s safe to say that Barry isn’t the most confident man in the room when he slips into the elevator before the doors close on him. Eddie barely glances at him, leaving his eyes on the floor instead, and Barry clears his throat, leans against the wall furthest from Eddie. He hasn’t thought this through—he never really does, does he?—and the quietness doesn’t help his case.

“Eddie—”

“Save it, Barry.”

Two arrows in the back hurt less, somehow.

“Look, I know I screwed up, alright? I do,” Barry says, wets his lips, “but you were there too. I didn’t do this alone.”

Silence. 

Barry almost wants to break into a musical number just to have something to say. 

The elevator comes to a stop and people come in, swamping the space between them. Barry has to accommodate a woman’s elbow against his ribs until it stops again and Eddie storms out, not a look behind his back. Barry mutters a clutter of apologies under his breath as he pushes through the small crowd and lunges after Eddie, hand finding Eddie’s wrist.

Eddie draws his arm back with enough force to make Barry lose balance, and Barry has to let go to avoid falling. His pulse quickens as Eddie starts walking once more. He follows, waits until they’re out in the parking lot, Eddie between him and the car, to push Eddie against it, a hand flat on Eddie’s chest to keep him in place, firm but not unkind.

Eddie could take him out with a single punch, if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. His eyes flick to Barry’s hand on him and back up to Barry’s face, meet Barry’s gaze for what seems like forever, and a shaky breath passes between them.

“I’m sorry,” says Barry, heart pounding so hard against his ribs that it might as well explode.

Barry’s phone buzzes before Eddie can respond. Barry breathes out a sigh, letting his hand fall from Eddie’s chest, and Eddie shuts his eyes, thumps his head against the car with a mumbled, “ _Fuck_.”

***

Felicity, of course, wants to call Oliver when the facial recognition software catches sight of their metahuman-of-the-week entering a residence. Barry wasn’t expecting any less, coming from her.

Still, he goes alone.

***

“Real anger,” was what Bivolo said before red clouded Barry’s vision, but Barry doesn’t think he can become angrier than he already is.

Not with Oliver Queen offering him a lecture on how to do his job, something he’s been doing without Oliver’s input whatsoever for a while. But of course Oliver has to give him his holier-than-though speech, to embarrass him for wanting to take matters into his own hands, which is something he’s sure Oliver’s done countless times before and gotten people hurt, people killed.

Shaming Barry for one misstep, one single hitch—who the hell does he think he is?

***

Barry’s sick of this, sick of working as hard as anyone else, harder even, and not having his efforts commended.

He’s sick of everyone one who’s treated him like a child, like he can’t get the job done without someone else looking over his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t fuck up. He’s sick of being looked at as the scrawny little boy who can’t outrun a bully at school, who’s had his daddy locked up in prison and is alone in the world.

He’s sick of Eddie and Iris looking at each other like all is fine in their little love bubble, because _he_ knows it’s not, because _he_ is the one who takes Eddie’s breath away with a single look, _he_ is the one who makes Eddie lose control, and _he_ is the one who makes Eddie moan against his mouth and come all over his hand and chest. 

Not Iris, _him_ , and if Eddie doesn’t appreciate that, doesn’t recognize that, then Barry will make him.

***

“I heard you’ve been looking for me.”

The Flash stands above Eddie’s body, watches with a smirk as Eddie pulls out his gun. There’s fear in Eddie’s eyes, fear that is raw and pleading and makes Barry want to hurt him, because this is his fault as much as it is Barry’s, and Barry is tired of apologizing.

“You think you can just come along and get to have whatever you want?” 

_To have_ me _, to have Iris and get away with it?_ is what he doesn’t say.

Iris’ voice is just noise behind him, an annoying little buzz telling him to stop, but he won’t. He won’t stop until Eddie’s begging him to stop, until Eddie’s come undone for him again.

His hands find Eddie’s collar but he’s swept away before he can do anything. The next few moments happen as if he were watching them through someone else’s eyes.

For an instant, there is no heartbeat, no breeze sweeping by, no sound as his body hits the asphalt. His body moves on its own until it doesn’t. Light flashes before his eyes, bright and blinking and his brain swims.

Oliver’s voice is soft when he speaks, “Barry? You okay?”

Barry turns around, hands framing his head, and breathes in and out, but there isn’t enough air. 

“Oh, this is gonna be a special kind of hangover.”

Oliver smiles, chuckles like Barry hasn’t seen before, and Barry smiles back.

***

Oliver is the first person he apologizes to, over coffee at Jitters, because he can’t face Eddie, not right now.

“You can always talk to me, Barry,” Oliver says to him, an easy smile set on his lips. 

“Yeah. Thank you.” Barry nods, averts his eyes when Oliver stares for longer than is comfortable. “And you were right. I still have a lot to learn.”

“There is one more thing.” Oliver pauses. “And you’re not gonna like it.”

Barry gives out a little humorless chuckle. “Does it involve you shooting me in the back?”

“No. The heart.” Oliver gives a look in Iris’ direction. “That’s not gonna work out for you. You need to let her go. For both of your sakes.”

Barry doesn’t know what to say, chooses to watch as Iris and Felicity giggle at something instead. Oliver turns around, follows his gaze.

“Guys like us don’t get the girl.”

And maybe that’s the truth, but Barry isn’t willing to accept it. Not yet.

***

The Flash visits Iris at night.

She doesn’t leave her spot by the door, doesn’t smile. He doesn’t blame her. He knows what he’s done to her, to Eddie.

“I defended you. Everyone told me that you would bring me nothing but danger; my father, Barry, Eddie,” Iris spits out at him. He’s never seen her like this, not with him. “I didn’t listen to them. I never listen to them, but now it’s time I did.”

That sounds an awful lot like a breakup, one to a relationship that never started and maybe never would.

“Don’t contact me anymore, okay?”

There’s only one thing he can say, but he knows it can’t fix what happened. That’s something he’s going to have to live with, but he tries anyway, has to, “Iris, I’m sorry.”

Iris nods. “Me too,” she tells him, and leaves.

Barry runs, runs as fast as he can and doesn’t stop until his legs refuse to carry him. He drops to his knees at Eddie’s door, gasping for air, and peels the mask away from his face, clutches it in his hand hard enough that his fingers rip through the material. 

He wants to cry, wants to hit at something and hear the bones cracking beneath his skin, he wants to _feel_ —pain, desperation, fear, everything, _anything_ to fill the emptiness in his chest.

Darkness encompasses him as he shuts his eyes and rocks his body forward; the coolness of the door presses against his forehead and he lets out a breath that’s threatening to choke him. His body is weightless, for a moment, floating in an infinite vacuum until the door creaks open and he loses his balance, has to hold himself up on one hand so he doesn’t fall.

“Eddie,” he breathes out as he glances up to catch Eddie’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A cut runs fresh across Eddie’s forehead, just above his eyebrow. Barry can’t look at it, bile rising in his throat.

Eddie releases a breath, glances at something behind his shoulder before offering Barry his hand. Barry stares at it, afraid it might burn if he touches it, but then Eddie gives it a little shake and Barry meets his eyes, swallows down a knot in throat as his fingers curl around Eddie’s. 

The door closes with a dull thud that is much too loud to Barry’s ears. He flinches, senses running into overdrive as he steps into Eddie’s living room.

“Barry.”

Barry takes in a breath that smells like Eddie and beer and anxiety, glances around the room and counts the steps to the door and back in case he has to flee. 

“Barry,” Eddie echoes, kind but demanding.

Barry nods, brings himself to meet Eddie’s eyes again. He opens his mouth but his brain fails him. He tries again to no avail. His own breathing suddenly berates his ears; a steady bleat thumping inside his skull.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His voice sounds like someone else’s. Foreign, distant. 

“I would never—” Barry stops, has to when he’s too breathless to speak. “I would never hurt you, Eddie.”

Eddie takes a step in his direction, stops close enough that electricity passes between them and forces Barry to take his glove off and touch, feel the bruise on Eddie’s face against his fingertips. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut and Barry traces a path down to Eddie’s cheek, stubble prickling his hand as his thumb meets Eddie’s jawline.

Their foreheads knock together and Barry hears Eddie’s smile before he sees it.

“You saw her,” Eddie whispers, his hand coming up to clutch at the Flash’s suit.

Barry nods but doesn’t pull away. His fingers move over Eddie’s face, thumb wandering to slide over Eddie’s bottom lip. Barry can’t fight a moan when Eddie’s mouth closes around it, hot and wet and _right_.

“I’m letting her go,” Barry’s voice cuts through the stillness, rough around the edges. He slips his thumb out of Eddie’s mouth and Eddie whimpers, hand tightening around Barry. “I’m letting Iris go.”

Eddie seems to be in a place between hopeful and scared when Barry pulls away to look at him. His eyes roam over Barry’s face, searching, and Barry smiles past the void in his stomach. 

Eddie nods, mutters, “Okay,” and his mouth finds Barry’s for a kiss. There is no hesitation when they break apart and Eddie speaks again, determination shining through his voice, “Okay.”

(Maybe Oliver was right after all.)

_end_


End file.
